


Slip

by maenam



Category: American Horror Story: Coven
Genre: Bathroom Sex, F/F, Unlikely Pairing, shower time
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-30
Updated: 2015-01-30
Packaged: 2018-03-09 18:11:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3259451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maenam/pseuds/maenam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Does a soul still dwell within this broken vessel?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Slip

**Author's Note:**

> Written on a whim and after some heavy re-viewing of Coven. Zoe is the nice girl that most of us are and Madison is the bitch that we wish we could be. They're perfect for each other.

“Do you _mind_?”

I pull the curtain back without even touching it as you turn the shower off. Your hair clings to your shoulders in awkward segments and the water beading on your body glistens, faceted under the artificial light. I think you purposely make yourself look boring in clothes because naked you is much less so. You’re pale all over, no hint of a tan, naturally skinny without having to starve yourself. You, Zoe Benson, are so innocent, a walking ode to purity. Everything about you is the opposite of me and I can deny it all I want but it’d always seared me on the inside. How poetic. I might hurl.

You reach for your towel and I stay your hand with only a thought.

“Not so fast. And no, of course I don’t mind.” Those big doe eyes of yours size me up for a glare, but it falls predictably short. God, you are _so_ bad. You couldn’t be an actor if you sold your fragile little soul to the Devil himself.

“What do you want?” Ooh, I’m so scared. Try harder, like you mean it. 

“You seem... bothered.” I reluctantly let you have the towel because you kind of resemble a drowned mouse and the heat from the shower is fading. The white linen wraps around you like a tiny blanket and you do your best to breeze past me and to the door.

“What would I be bothered by?” Dumbest question of the year award definitely goes to you.

“Maybe, just maybe... the fact that you walked in on me and Lover Boy the other day? It’s really not that big of a deal.” I find myself gliding over to you and locking the door so you can’t make such an easy escape. 

“I don’t care about that,” you claim after some staring and a long pause. Yeah, you kind of fucking suck at this. It’s cute, in an annoyingly quirky way. That’s you, after all.

“Don’t you _love_ him? You _did_ bring him back from the dead. Oh, yeah, so did I.” You avoid my eyes and I notice that your carotid is going crazy under the delicate skin of your neck. I reach out to calm it and your pulse rockets beneath my fingertips. 

“It doesn’t matter. You two obviously get along pretty well.” Ah, now you’re looking at me again and there’s a spark that wasn’t there before, burning its way through the self-pity. I roll my eyes, give a shake of my head. 

“Cut the melodrama bullshit. I can share.” I move to twist your wet hair around my fingers. You seem confused, apprehensive, and then calm sets in. “The question is... can you?” You brush my hand away, but it’s not so harsh and seems almost playful. A small smile breaks over your face and I realize then that I may have completely underestimated just what kind of witch you are. 

In the history of all that is epic move-making, you attach your lips to mine so suddenly that I’m sure you can literally feel my surprise. And the fact that I feel anything at all... it’s amazing and I pull you closer to me, crushing your bird bones against my own, unwilling to let that feeling go so easily.

You’re soft and timid but I know you’re no virgin. The towel is gone, like it had never been there, and I’m free to run my hands all over. A sigh leaves you as I cup your ass and then bury my tongue in your mouth. I may have died once but I think I would be fine with dying again if it felt this way. Maybe you could bring me back again, too.

We pull apart and I have a look at you, for real this time. Your chest heaves slightly, carrying small but pretty breasts that I reach for somewhat carefully. I roll the pads of my thumbs over delicate, rosy nipples and you moan, leaning into the touch. Your hip bones jut out but not in a sickly way and they’re really nice to look at as they lead to the V at the center of your thighs. I can feel the energy spilling off you in waves and your eyes are full of dark, mahogany fire. I hadn’t thought it would lead to this. Now that we’re here, there’s no going back.

“Don’t you wanna —?” But I cut you off with a short kiss and then shove you into the wall, satisfied at the slight slump in your posture. It’s the perfect moment to exercise my powers and Lord knows I could really use a work out.

“No. Help me out here.” I’ve never been known to ask for help and I hate that I have to do it now, but let’s face it, I’m also not going to do all the work myself. And no, I won’t undress for you. Not here, not now. I kneel and dedicate a corner of my mind to lifting you slightly, allowing your milky legs to rest on my shoulders. You half-smile, and you’re probably nervous, but what little weight was there lessens as you focus. I can smell the excitement on you and it makes me excited, too.

Gentle isn’t typically a word one would use to describe me as a lover but I can manage if I have to. I make my way to your center tortuously slow, giving kisses along each thigh before landing a sharp nibble. Not hard enough to draw blood, but I’ve left my mark and I give it an appraising look before continuing. It’ll go away, eventually, but in the meantime I’ve made sure you won’t forget.

I’m almost there and your legs shudder before I’ve even touched down. It makes me laugh and I look up at you and you flush.

“What if it kills you?” Did you really just ask that?

“I’m not afraid, Zoe.” You grin for a second but the doubt sets in soon after. “Don’t worry, I already know what it’s like to die. Besides, I’m sure you’ll just rally the troops and bring me back. Again. So. What do you want?” The question throws you off a bit.

“I don’t want you to die.”

“ _No_ , dumbass. What do you _want_?” I ask, mimicking you from earlier.

“I want —“

“ _With intent_.” I can’t believe I’m quoting Cordelia, of all fucking people, but right now it seems fitting. You huff, adorably flustered, and your hand comes to rest at the base of my skull. I can’t stop one of my brows from shooting up. Well?

“Eat me, bitch.” My eyes narrow instinctively. I don’t take orders from _anyone_ but damn, a line like that deserves some recognition and I oblige, parting the folds to the warmth that awaits.

You’re... refreshing, clean and not at all like the LA grunge style you often attempt to disappear in. I open my mouth and take you in and you buck your hips, creating sweet friction between your clit and the length of my tongue. The breathy gasps that leave your lips are music to my ears. I give you a long suck, finding room to explore with my fingers at the same time. We match up for a while and I fuck you like this until I have to come up for air and when I still the movement of my hand you give me a longing, almost mournful look . Poor thing. It must be so frustrating to never get any out of fear. I haven’t rolled over and seized to death just yet so I’m almost sure that this was meant to be. 

I can feel you tighten around my fingers and a long moan fills the room. You say my name, gripping at my shoulders and rocking back and forth to your own rhythm. You’re losing focus and your weight begins to bear down on me, so I lift you with what strength I have left and drill my tongue into your core as hard as I can, which makes you scream and finish only minutes later.

Slowly, I release you to the floor and you lie there, glowing, your hair half-dry and your pussy still wet. I conjure the towel to your side and it takes you a while to recover enough to put it back on. My knees ache in a good way and I stand. I have to go change but hey, it’s cool. It’d be a sin if I didn’t put on a new outfit for the evening.

“Don’t wait up,” I say dismissively after rinsing my face. Your taste and scent are still there but, as I said before, I don’t mind. I’ll wear you around for the rest of the night. Straightening my hair and readjusting my blouse, I make my way to the door, unlocking and opening it in one swift motion.

“Madison,” you call, and I turn. You’re so small, I could crush you to dust. I’d cut you into little lines and rail you greedily over the course of a single night, removing your purity from the world and absorbing it for myself. You got off easily (in more ways than one) and now you’re annoying me, standing there gaping like a pathetic little fish out of water. Hurry up, stupid. Say something. Then, finally, “Thanks.” I regard you in this moment, and am even more irritated that I can’t seem to tear my eyes away, no matter how hard I try.

“Don’t mention it.” With a confident smirk and a wink, I whirl around in a flourish, as I always do, and retreat down the hall. On the way to my room, my nerves are on edge, and not just because I need to rub one out. I may have just done something bad. Really bad. I mean, I do bad things all the time. But this? Well... I guess, at this point, I probably couldn’t do any worse. And that thought is hardly comforting.


End file.
